The Cure
by writingtitan
Summary: He was a virus; injected in her veins the moment she was assigned his post. Continuation of "Infected" CyrusxOC. Chapter 1 & 2 have been re-edited and revised. No major changes, just slight altercations. Updates, generally, 23rd.
1. Infected

**AN:/** Yeah...I'm back under protest by the way. I wanted this fic to be a one-shot; but noooooo. Antonia do the disclaimer

Antonia: "Writingtitan does not own Con Air. I do however. And John Malkovich is my personal property. So back off or, and I never thought I'd say this again, Ill get the pig!"

No. No. I am not getting sued just to go along with your fantasies! I, nor does Antonia, own Con Air.

Antonia: Except that I do.

Ill make you kill Cyrus and marry Poe.

Antonia: FINE! I don't own..._yet_

_

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Chapter one: Infected

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She never wanted to be a prison guard. Though she enjoyed jeering and amusing herself with the bland corrupt innocence of these men's minds, she preferred profiling them. It was inevitable, really. His mind intrigued her to no end. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch; deep, persistent, profound. She often found herself going through his file, pouring over the case notes, often listening in to shrinks' discussions with him. She felt as though she understood him; though the supposed 'experts' said he was 'an immoral, selfish, unfeeling monster', she knew she was right...there was more to him than what text books could define. So what at first seemed a daunting task, accompanying C-123 "Jailbird" (only so Malloy could save a few bucks on flight fare) to Alabama, so she could assist on a mass murder case, became the opportunity of a life time.

After walking down the concrete carpet towards the plane and being checked ( a little too thoroughly by the guard staff), she was stopped by Malloy.

"Wait wait wait. You numbnuts idiots or something?"

He took off her glasses, handing them to a guard before handing her her contacts case.

"Quick, put em' in."

She sighed, unclasping the plastic to take out her contacts, and slid them into her dark eyes just as Malloy put his hands to her waist, his hands lingering on her lower back. Bishop frowned in suspicion.

"Oh you romantic fool; couldn't wait to get your hands on me could ya?" She winked mockingly at him as he pulled off her belt.

"Another dangerous item," he spoke, handing it to a female guard. "Bishop, you're out."

She dropped Antonia's expensive glasses and belt, stepping closer to him in shock.

"What? Why? If this is a sexist pull-"

"You missed glasses and a belt, endangering the entire..."

Their voices drowned out as Antonia boarded the plane. Her composure laxed as her insides raged as she walked down the isles; quickly approaching the criminals in cages. Her seat was in front of a prisoner's cage. _His_ cage. He was a virus; injected in her veins the moment she first read his case. She was like a tween obsessed with Twilight meeting her "Edward". Only difference being Cyrus had more kills under his belt.

Now Antonia van Koeverden was not a psychopath, (depending on the way you looked at it) she was more of a free spirit, an imaginative girl...like a small child with an entire universe created from a simple thought...only a bit more morbid. She made the move to push back her glasses out of habit before realizing she was wearing contacts ("because a prisoner could break the glass and use it as a weapon!") and quickly made the adjustment to scratching her nose, as to not lose face.

Her heart thudded as she approached his cage. Taking her seat, she looked down; pulling out papers from under her arm, she began her work, tuning out the Virus. She heard a small chuckle.

"I'm a jailbird...you're jail bait."

She looked up from her papers resting in her lap to the caged man in front of her. She shifted uncomfortably as the concealed gun in the back of her skirt dug into her. Though weaponry didn't make her uneasy, the metal was prodding her back. (Stupid Malloy insisting I arm myself. ME. I guess he doesn't know how much fun I'd have against a prisoner.)

Snorting delicately she thought how idiotic and paranoid Malloy was. She profiled half these men, none of them had the cunning or strength to take a whole plane hostage, with guards and police all over, waiting and watching. All except him. Cyrus. He was a virus. On paper and seen through thick one-way glass he was an interesting case...but that's all he was, a case, an interesting side note to discuss and write about. But the minute she was assigned to the plane and realized who was aboard, a feeling arose within her. She couldn't understand it. Perhaps she wasn't meant to.

"I've seen you...through the glass." He smirked in her direction and she bit her tongue for a moment.

"Oh?" Speculation was clear in her tone. Her voice did not quaver nor break; she was a woman of class and dignity and no matter how intriguing a prisoner was, she would not be intimidated. At least, not by just his presence alone. "Do you have x-ray vision?"

He shook his head, his gaze lingering on her chest before meeting her eyes, challenging, baiting her to respond aggressively. "Sometimes I wish I did."

She ignored the pass, despite the fluttering of her stomach. "Then how, pray tell, did you see though one-way glass?"

He chuckled lightly, relaxing back into his seat, as though he was about to arrive at a holiday destination, rather than a Supermax prison.

"I didn't. I hear whispers between guards and such... how odd you were... always wanting to sit in on my sessions, though you never had anything to do with my case."

She bit the inside of her cheek again, clearing her throat. "You are an interesting case." She quickly dismissed him, turning back to her papers. She sighed after a minute discarding them to the empty seat next to her.

"How do you know it's me that's so interested?"

"The guards were passing along stories to try and show each other up and they spoke of the criminal profiler and her obsession... then you boarded the plane and they shut up pronto."

His smirk was arrogant. He seemed jittery almost, as if he wanted to rip out his chains and break through the wired entrapment, only to be seated closer to her. "I was looking forward to meeting my biggest fan."

She raised a speculative eyebrow. "And how do you know that I'm not just another passenger making her way to Alabama on a cheap flight?" Her tone held mockery and sarcasm, as she batted her eyelashes delicately. He grinned.

"_You are an interesting case_," she internally winced as he mimicked her. "You confirmed it." He smirked. "So...I've heard whispers through prison walls about you... what have you heard of me?"

Antonia looked up meeting his gaze. "_Cyrus is a poster child for the criminally insane. He's a true product of the system_." Her tone was open mockery of her superiors.

He laughed, boisterously, startling her slightly. (But only on the inside...she must keep her composure.) "Don't you just love the system? Always finding someone else to blame, some reason for this mass criminal." He spoke mockingly, stretching out in his restraints. "Can't be that I did it just for fun... Maybe I just_wanted_ to kill more men than cancer." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly. He gazed at her, trying to meet her eyes. She pointedly looked away.

"You'd think in a tight airlocked space, thousands of feet above ground, surrounded by murderers, rapists, and all kinds of convicts, you'd be the least bit nervous. Being the only woman on-board and all."

She finally met his gaze. "The day I'm intimidated by the likes of you is the day I go insane." (Or sane...depending on the way you look at it…) "I wrote a novel once," she continued in an unruffled tone. "About a murderer -"

"The serial arsonist. I know. I've read it. Guess I'm your biggest fan too… because Debbie's my kind of woman."

Antonia looked quizzically at Cyrus, but now he was the one to avoid the contact. "You're attracted to fellow criminals? Well, I guess you'd have your pick, being locked away with hundreds of them."

He snorted, throwing his head back in silent laughter, he shook his head looking at her.  
"Oh no, she's not my cup of tea at all...more like the long lost sister I never had but always wanted. You, on the other hand..."

She nearly choked on her spit and she could see the satisfaction and amusement in his eyes that he finally got a reaction out of her.

"Finally baited a reaction out of you... Perhaps I'm the bait after all."

The guards start making their rounds as they secure the plane for lift off. "Well, welcome aboard," a voice rings out behind them and Antonia and Cyrus both shift back into their seats. She hadn't realized that they'd both been unconsciously leaning towards one another. She quickly began picking up her forgotten papers.

"My, my. As I look around I see a lot of celebrities among us. I see 11 Current Affairs, two Hard Copies, and a genuine Geraldo interviewee. But I got to tell you, gentlemen, none of this impresses me. Because we have rules on this aircraft, and they're gonna be enforced. It's a lot like kindergarten. You'll keep your hands to yourself. You keep the decibel level down. And if any of you should feel the need to scream, spit or bite, you get the treatment."

Somebody had to. "Fuck you, pig." Cyrus smirked in her direction. One point to the captives.

"Gag and bag this Nazi muffin." She smirked back at him and he enjoyed the challenge in her eyes. "See," Falzon's voice continued behind them, "this kind of thing puts me in a foul mood. These rules will be enforced. If there's a hint of trouble - if any of you so much as passes gas in my direction and it offends my delicate nasal passages, your testicles will become my personal property. That's pretty clear. Good."

Her eyes had stayed focused on her paper work throughout Falzon's speech but immediately flew up as she heard Cyrus speak to the brown-haired man rows in front of them. "Sí," the convict replied in the same language he had been addressed in, "mi nombre es Juanio veinte y tres."

"Oh, eres Juanio veinte y tres. Claro, yo te conozco. Veinte y tres cargos de violación."

"Mira, un solo corazón para cada uno de mis veinte y tres perras." The brown haired man turned, giving her an ugly smile, though she could on see half his profile. "They'd call me Johnny 600 if they knew the truth." The sudden break from Spanish to a language she fully understood caught her off guard, but she got the gist of their conversation, and didn't like his insinuations. She glared through Cyrus's cage to Johnny. Cyrus shifted forward slightly, interrupting her view.

"Ah, doesn't have quite the same ring to it." Cyrus winked at her, a mischievous smile on his face; one of a child getting caught doing something wrong, by a person they know won't punish them for it.  
"Anyway, I despise rapists. For me, you're somewhere between a cockroach and that white stuff that accumulates at the corner of your mouth when you're really thirsty." Antonia raised a speculative eyebrow at him, a rather awed, shocked, yet impressed expression hidden in her eyes (as she must not let them see what she felt). "But in your case, I'll make an exception." His tone was sweet; yet the words in context were ugly. Intriguing. A walking contradiction. She made a side note on a scrap piece of paper.

One of the male guards approached them and leant against Cyrus's temporary home. Looking at her, he tried flirting. His breath was repugnant and his smile coffee-stained.

"Sorry you have to sit near this trash, pretty darlin'. Word on the street is, this crack head lost his mind." The guard shook his head, looking at Cyrus with such disgust that Antonia wanted to throttle him for the indignity of it all. Crack-head… he had no idea who he was dealing with.

"According to my last psych evaluation, you are correct," Cyrus sneered back and Antonia tried to muffle her laughter. The guard gave her a look of contempt (and slight embarrassment, moving on).

"Guard Falzon?" Cyrus called, as he gazed at her in amusement. Honestly! She felt like a school girl, misbehaving and giggling to mock a teacher.

"What?" Falzon stomped the few feet towards them.

Cyrus spoke in a squeaky voice. "Oh, stewardess, stewardess… What's the in-flight movie today?"

Guard Falzon smirked in that cocky way guards have when they're looking through bars. "Well, I think you'll like it, Cyrus. It's called _I'll Never Make Love to a Woman on the Beach Again_, and it's preceded by the award-winning short, _No More Steak for Me, Ever_."

Guard Falzon walked away, chuckling, and Antonia smirked. Two points for system, however cheap the humor had been. No comeback is a victory, no matter how bad the battle was. She faintly heard Cyrus mumble "Funny fucker, aren't ya?"

She must have drifted asleep, for when she awoke there was a commotion on the plane. A man was on fire, prisoners were out of their seats... and Cyrus - _Cyrus_! - was nowhere to be seen. She glanced down at the top of her papers; it'd been written on in thick black Sharpie. _20 points for captives xoxox._ She shivered as his voice rang out in the deathly silence after the gun was fired; no one was paying attention to her, she could let it show now.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I have the only gun on board. Welcome to Con Air."

He had infected her, with no cure, and for the rest of her life Cyrus would have his effect on her... (she felt the cool metal pressing into her back...perhaps Malloy wasn't so stupid after all)

Her hand reached behind her back, gripping the handle of the gun for cold comfort.

….Maybe she could infect him too.

I hear lead infection is deadly...

...if shot through the head.

* * *

**A/N:** After a lot of people adding "Infected" to their alerts (even though it was clearly marked "ONESHOT" and "Complete" and also because my friend is (death) threatening me to continue this, it has been continued. It is different to "Infected" in a lot of ways, but more of that will be revealed. Updates will be pretty regular. I don't think any of you comprehend how dangerous Antonia is. If my updates take longer than a month she'll kill me. "Credit where credits due" _Thisisforyou_ added one or two lines here and there when she was beta-ing the original. So mad "props" to her!


	2. Manipulation

AN:/ I highly recommend you going to see "Red". Not only because its brilliant but there are a few quotes throughout the story from it that will foreshadow future events. I Love You! Also if you want to see how regular updates are going to be look at the review from _thisisforyou's_ review on chapter one. I'm under THAT much pressure! This chapter is the only one that will be most like the movie. The other chapters will loosely follow the plot except the inner content will be much different.

Note: I just want to make it clear that I am not racist. There will be a few racial slurs and cracks and bad words (like a variation of the _n_ word) but if you've seen the film, its that era of speech and to keep it as close to the story as possible its what I'm going to do. No offense to anyone.

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Chapter Two: Manipulation

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"Damn this pig is heavy."

The convicts laughed as Diamond Dog dragged a dead guards body, laughing as it was spat on and slammed against various inanimate objects. A random convict rammed her against the side of a cage, handcuffing her to the exterior. She glared past Johnny who was looking at her, to Cyrus who was at the next set of cages further ahead. She hid her fear. She hid her admiration.

"If we let you out, you gonna play nice, Billy?"

"Probably not."

She suppressed a smile as Cyrus let him out, then gasped (in her head) and glared as Johnny blocked her view, standing on the other side of the wall she was chained to. His breath smelled. He was sweaty. He smiled in anticipation.

"I got a spot on my arm just for you." She looked away trying to distract herself with a conversation over medication. Her eyes locked with the man sitting next to the negro man struggling for his (however temporary) cure.

"I'm gonna use your whole body to make me feel good." She turned looking at him before spitting in his face. He moved quickly, roughly slamming her into the wall in which she was chained to. She fought against his stifling, crushing embrace, but he was stronger than her and she couldn't use her hands. "Make me hurt you. Oh, yeah…" She gasped as the weight that was crushing her against the metal grate was suddenly thrown away from her. The man who had been next to the man with the medication was standing in front of her.

"I can't allow that." He had a decidedly Southern accent and sounded immaculately calm despite the situation.

Johnny stood slowly, a look of mild shock and anger (yet intimidation... rape. The ultimate act of cowards) on his face."You know what I am?"

Johnny pressed his hand against his chest, stepping forward, but the negro's row-mate stood his ground, even as more convicts came forward to see the commotion. Boys – a whiff of a fight passes their nostrils and they're there. "Ugly all day."

Johnny lunged forward, aiming a punch for her defender's face, which was quickly blocked and thrown back. "This ain't happenin', not here, not now."

Johnny stood after a few seconds, nodding and stepping towards her again. "Oh, it's happening."

"Hey! Relax," Cyrus' voice boomed out as he walked authoritatively down the aisle. Johnny bared his teeth, his eyes not leaving her. "He's right. Not here and not _ever_." Cyrus stood in Johnny's way, blocking his view of the dishevelled Antonia, her brown bun now coming undone at the nape of her neck. "Can you fly, Johnny?"

He looked, confused, at Cyrus. "No."

"You keep that in mind when you look at her, because if your dick jumps out of your pants, you jump out of this plane." Cyrus patted Johnny's cheek before glowering at the man who had just taken it upon himself to help her, as he walked past him and unchained her, pushing her toward the front of the plane.

He winked at her before walking towards the pig who was chained by the neck...Falzon. Cyrus placed the gun to his head. "What are the numbers in Carson City? How many on, how many off?" Falzon looked forward; contemplating pride over life. He sighed.

"Six off and ten on."  
Cyrus walked away from Flazon, pushing Antonia in front of him. "Find the six," he barked authoritatively.

"Well, I know three of these brothers," Pinball spoke from behind Cyrus, reading off a clipboard. "They're right back there. Uh, the other three are Benson, Carls and Popovitch."

"Where are they?" Cyrus turned, with a raised eyebrow. Pinball nodded, taking a step backwards.

"That's a damn good question, Cyrus. And I'm gonna find out."

"The pilot wants to know what's next."

Antonia turned at Diamond Dog's voice as he exited the cockpit. She stifled her reaction as Cyrus moved next to her, his shoulder pressed against hers. Being so close to him was intoxicating.

"He's to land at Carson City Airport as scheduled." Cyrus rested his chin against her shoulder; a smug grin on his face. She resisted a tremble.

"Carson City? The law is down there, you lost your mind?"

Cyrus turned to look at Billy. "According to my last psych evaluation, yes."

Antonia shrugged him off. "Get a new line." He smirked, shoving her in front of the front row of seats.

"Stay down." He looked above her to the balcony in front of the cock-pit, where the huge negro stood. "Diamond Dog, if you would…"

She tilted her head backwards looking up at him. "You think you're free?" he began loudly. "You're not. Now, listen up. Forty to fifty U.S. prison guards armed with shotguns are waitin' for us at the next stop. Now, if you do exactly what we tell ya... the rest of our lives will be a vacation in a non-extradition country. I'm talkin' sandy beaches, umbrella drinks...and dirty, naked freaks. It'll be a paid motherfuckin' vacation."

His speech was interrupted and followed by enthusiasm and cheers. Billy stepped forward. "Wait. Who's doin' the payin'?"

"Our employer, Francisco Cindino." Antonia turned to look at Cyrus, who had spoken. Wait, she knew that name. She knew that name! He was connected to the case she was helping with in Alabama. They needed it to crack him and his whole operation. It was continuing despite him being in custody.

"Everybody freeze!"

Suddenly the convict that Pinball had just released had the former in a choke hold with a gun at his head. Cyrus quickly sidestepped, crouching down beside her behind the barricade of chairs.  
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, Cyrus. No, no. Get that ass out here right now!" The gunman screamed. She peered between the gap in the seats, her analytical mind profiling his sweaty nervousness and fear. He was not used to being in the firing line. He wasn't used to pressure. He couldn't be a convict going to a Supermax prison. Either the system wrongly incarcerated him, or...

"With you in a second." Cyrus smirked at her, blowing her a kiss.

"Right now!"

"Keep cool, boss." She heard the accented voice of the man who had stopped her almost-rape previously.

"Shut up." The gun man shouted.

"Who the fuck are you?" Pinball glared up at his captor.

"I'm DEA, that's who the fuck I am." He retorted in a scream like manor. He was really scared. She could see the adrenaline pumping, his shaky movements. He was definitely a rookie law  
enforcer. First time in the dangerous field. First time, technically, for her too, but...I mean, c'mon. Antonia? Afraid? Showing emotion? Breaking under pressure? Puh… Her thoughts were interrupted as Cyrus seized her up pulling her up, in front of him.

"Now you were saying?"

"Oh, that's very clever, Cyrus." Simms pointed his gun at Cyrus. Well, more accurately, at _her,_ but his intentions were clear. "You think I give a shit about that little bitch desk jockey you have there right now? Well, maybe you didn't hear what I said. I'm DEA, you know what the fuck that means?" Even with Cyrus having a gun pointed at her, using her body as a shield (though she'd much rather him use it in other ways) she couldn't help but noting his rise in tone and volume. He was going to break any second.

"You the most crooked nigger on this plane," Pinball interjected.

He pointed the gun back down at him. "Shut up."

"You're DEA?" Simms pointed the gun back at Cyrus as he spoke lazily, "what are you doin' on this flight? Won't they fly you boys commercially?"

"Don't push me, Cyrus, man." He pointed the gun back at Pinball. "I swear to God, I'll blow away your little boyfriend right now."

"You know," Cyrus started pushing her forward, little step by little step, crouched behind her.  
"The next time you choose a human shield, you're better off not picking the two-bit Negro crackhead."

"Suck my dick, Cyrus!" Pinball gripped Simms arm as it tightened on his throat. Antonia noted this. He needed a push, and if she was going to die, well then...

"Shoot him." She whispered, mouthing clearly to Simms.

Cyrus kissed her back. "Quiet, sweetheart."

"I think you should just stop." The accented man stepped forward. Simms pointed the gun at him.

"Stay back, man. Stay back!" The accented man didn't listen and took another step forward.

"Just stop, right? Before somebody gets killed."

"BACK!"

He extended his hands in a calming motion stepping back. "All right, cowboy, I'm back."

"Stay back!" He'd snapped. He was really losing it. Antonia would have generally found this extremely interesting; her only regret now was that she wouldn't be able to document his behaviour. Ah, such a waste.

"You know you're in a situation you can't control, right?" The Southerner was _still_ going! Hmm, he was intriguing too. If only she had her pen she could have been taking notes on her hand.

"I can't control it? I can't control it?"

"You're a dead man." Simms shoved the gun roughly against Pinball's shiny bald head.

"Shut the fuck up!" The accented man's head turned slightly as he looked to one side; another convict made his way towards Simms from behind. Simms looked.

_Bang._

**Bang!**

**

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**

AN:/ I would check out _thisisforyou_'s account. She has very good Con Air fics and other such goodies. ;)


	3. Carson City

**AN:/ **This story will not follow Con Air story to a T. The previous chapter will be the only one with the most similarities as I needed to flesh out some character aspects, so you could all see how Antonia's mind works. Though it doesn't follow the plot exactly I highly recommend (re)watching it before reading this fic as things I may leave out as I expect you to know (e.g. Poe's tricks along the way) I am not substituting Antonia for Bishop. Chapter 1 & 2 have been Beta-ed by _thisisforyou._

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Chapter three: Carson City

"What's your name, convict?"  
Antonia sat in the isle staring at the bloodied corpse in front of her, as she felt Cyrus's legs brush past her shoulder; only then did she look up as he walked towards the Southern man.  
"My name?"  
"Yeah."  
"Poe."  
"Nice work, Poe. Truly nice work."  
She looked down as Cyrus turned back to her crouching down.

"You know, your a really heavy sleeper"

Cyrus smirked down at her.

"_**Shit. Did you see that motherfucker,man? He spontaneously combusted. He's a fuckin' witch doctor, man. I seen that shit on Discovery Channel!"**_

_The commotion continued and the idiot Pinball was stopped before he could pull down Cyrus's lever. Cyrus started banging his cuffs against the wire entrapment. He glanced down at Antonia, with a huge smirk on his face, only to shake his head in slight anger to notice she was asleep! Of all the times! As he exited his cage, he grabbed her pen before he quickly stroked the side of her face with a slight grin before head butting a guard and making his way to the cock-pit._

_She knew she was a heavy sleeper. Though she'd never ever admit it, it was a jolt of electricity that woke her, (a jolt from the touch of a fantasy in reality) and in her blurry vision she saw Cyrus make his way to the cock-pit._

"How do you know I wasn't faking it so I wouldn't get bothered into helping or fighting?"

He smirked dragging her up and placing her in Billy's former cage. "Make yourself at home"

As the door slid shut with an ominous thud, he smirked at her, placing a finger to his chin.

"Now...hmmm this subject is quite interesting. Further analysis is needed, to get her full profile"

He leaned his face against the cage grinning at her.

"Don't go anywhere. You still have your uses" He winked before moving down the isle.

She released an audible sigh as she sunk into the seat in her metal chamber, reaching back to pat the gun for reassurance her eyes widened to notice its absence. A dragging sound of metal against metal made her look up as Cyrus dragged her gun along the cage. She looked down the aisle she had just seen him start walking down and then back at him, a small frown on her face. Paying attention...she needed to start doing that.

He examined her gun, a small smirk splaying in his face.

"Really?"

She raised an eyebrow, confused at him. His smirk broadened, as he shook his head.

"Naughty, naughty girl, Tsk Tsk Tsk. Whatever shall we do with you?"

Antonia stood, straightening to meet his gaze.

"You don't scare me"

"Hmm I would believe that..." He slammed himself forward onto the cage.

"Were it not for that micro-flinch you were trying oh so hard to conceal"

He walked off waving the gun in his hand, Billy running up next to him.  
"The bitch had a gun?"

Cyrus ignored him walking up the aisle as Billy ran up behind him.

"Why aren't you getting rid of her?" He grabbed Cyrus's shoulder turning him.

"She's a fuckin' ris-"

Cyrus moved the gun into Billy's face.

"I decide what's a risk. So unless you want to be gagged and bagged and thrown into Carson city go and find out the ETA from the pilot" Cyrus patted him condescendingly on the head. "'Kay?"

A shaken Pinball walked up to Cyrus as Billy exited in the cockpit.

"I got good news and bad news"

Antonia tuned out their conversation over dead convicts, glancing down at, Poe was it?, who was seated next to her prison. His friend was getting sweaty. She zoned back into reality when Cyrus's voice rang out (always _his _voice!)

"I need three volunteers"

"Lets go son!"

She looked back down at Poe and his friend.

"What about her?"

She raised her brow in speculation, insult and mild admiration.

"I got my insulin, all right, but they broke all the damn needles. If I don't get my shot in the next couple of hours...somebody gonna be sending flowers to my mother. No offense lady-..."

"I can take care of myself" Antonia looked ahead. She didn't ask to be saved.

"I can see that" Poe retorted.

"Hey, right here, man. Us two." The sick man raised his hand.  
"Great, go ahead. Go to the back." Cyrus didn't even bother to look up..._until_  
"Hey, whoa, stop. The guys they're expecting are white. That puts you shit out of luck."  
"Hey, come on, man."  
"I'll tell you what. Sit down." Cyrus had that patronizing tone again. It was getting so familiar to her now. "One of my associates will bring you a phone book, and you call the Affirmative Action office." But then his tone changed to serious again. Apparently Carson city was important. She probably should of paid attention to Cyrus's conversation with Pinball. Ah well.  
"You, go ahead."  
The two men broke off into whispers before fist bumping as Poe walked off. To be honest she was glad to see the back of him. She didn't need a hero or to be in anyone's debt. She banged her head against the cage as he returned. His black friend stood then they crouched and undressed Simm's corpse, whispering to one another.  
She shook her head in mild disgust as Poe walked up to Falzon, unchaining him and being "witty". What was with the bad boy attitude all of a sudden? Who was Poe? What was his angle? She glared in frustration. She _really_ wanted to write all of this down!

* * *

They landed in Carson city and the transfer was made. New faces lined her vision from her cage. Seeing Garland Green in person made Antonia feel like she was meeting the President; someone important who she usually would have been elated to meet, but was of little significance next to her big time celebrity crush.

Speaking of which...Cyrus unlocked her cage, dragging her out and down the aisle. From the corner of her eye she saw Poe stand but then be ushered below deck. Cyrus dragged her into a back cabin of the plane. They were alone. He shoved her against the wall, before patting her down. When he was knelt in front of her she made to kick him but he seized her leg.

"Someone" He spoke his grip on her ankle slowly moving up, as his hold grazed its way up her leg.

"...alerted the authorities at Carson City." He slowly patted her inner thigh before starting on her right ankle. She had to bite her lip as not to squirm.

He felt up her body, his hands at the side of her waist. He pressed her sides tightly and she jumped, as her felt the underside of her breast. His hands moved back to her waist; her voice was breathy as she spoke.

"Yeah it was me." He stood slamming his arms on either side of her head. "In-between the nearly rape, human shield op and been locked in a cage, I conveyed a message to the police"

He glared at her, moving his face into hers, their breaths mingling. He was furiously trying to intimidate her. It was seriously pissing him off that he couldn't.

"Do you give all your prisoner's cavity searches or am I just special?"

He slammed his hand against the wall making a large thud in impact. She looked at him directly in the eye. An eternity squished into one minute passed before he dragged her back, through the cabin, down the aisle before slamming her into her cage. Billy came from the other side of Cyrus.

"I told you she was a fucking risk. Why the fuck is she still-.."

Cyrus shoved his gun into Billy's face, a mad man in his eyes, before furiously storming past him.

Billy shook his head before glaring at Poe. A macho-bravo show down went down. She only started paying attention when Garland pitched in as Billy stormed off.

"He's a font of misplaced rage. Name your cliche. Mother held him too much, or not enough. Last picked at kick ball, late-night sneaky uncle. Whatever. Now he's so angry, moments of  
levity actually cause him pain. Gives him headaches. Happiness, for that gentleman, hurts."  
She nodded her agreement though, no one was actually paying attention to her.  
"What's wrong with him?" She glared at the negro next to Poe.  
"My first thought would be a lot."

* * *

**AN:/** Well there you go...the "RED" reference will be in the next chapter if you squint and concentrate really hard. There will be an imaginary cookie for whoever can guess what it is. Ciao.


	4. Lerner Airfield

AN:/ Really, you have to (re)watch the movie before continuing with this fic as I will be glossing over certain events. This chapter is quite shorter than the rest. Their are probably three more chapters of this fic. Happy reading.

* * *

Chapter four:

Lerner Airfield

Antonia stared at Garland in concentration. Poe had disappeared moments ago and she had sighed in relief. He made her feel judged...yet protected? He was watching out for her, sure, which was slightly insulting; insinuating that she couldn't take care of herself. So yeah, it was a slightly insulting comfort and yet, she felt judged. He stared at her as if he knew she was excited by all of this. He had been informing her of his life, his daughter, asked about her home life. Spare me the small talk, she wanted to scream, but his eyes were caught as he saw Billy start heading below deck, before Johnny stopped him, going in his place. She wasn't sure what transaction went on between the two of them but Billy walked down, banging on her cage as he walked past. After that she had spent her time staring at Garland. She wished she could talk to him, but she was literally speechless, and felt guilty for even thinking of speaking to this other convict. She quickly glanced up at Cyrus, as his eyes turned down to his clipboard, licking her lips, she cussed as Poe came back up.

"Two went down, one came up."

She glanced down at Garland, suppressing her laughter but settling with a small smirk.

"Wasn't my fault." She stared at Poe as he sat down. He was getting more and more interesting. Hmm perhaps she could be flirty and convince Johnny to get her some pap-..oh wait...shit.

"Well, you don't have to tell me. Most murders are crimes of necessity rather than desire. But the great ones, Dahmer, Gacy, Bundy they did it because it excited them."

"Don't you-I got nothing in common with them, with you. Don't you talk to me! They were insane." Wait, he was feeling guilty about killing a rapist? She frowned. But why'd he have to kill that rapist? She could of conned some paper out of him, so that she could write about Poe feeling guilty about..killing him. She shook her head. Why couldn't he have killed Billy? She did like Billy; he was an interesting case too...but he didn't like her very much. She looked down; ah life was hard.

"Now you're talking. What if I told you insane was working 50 hours a week in some office for 50 years at the end of which they tell you to piss off? Ending up, in some retirement village hoping to die before suffering the indignity of trying to make it to the toilet on time. Wouldn't you consider that to be insane?"

"Murdering 30 people, semantics or not, is insane!"

"One girl, I drove through three states wearing her head as a hat."

She raised an eyebrow. Interesting attire, but who was she to judge? She wore a hat with a fan attached to it last December.

"It's my daughter's birthday today. So please feel free not to share everything with me."

She mimicked him silently mockingly, from the corner of her eye she saw Cyrus laugh. Billy turned to look at her, to see what made Cyrus laugh, then glared before continuing their conversation.

Downward turbulence had Antonia rattling around in her cage. She tried to steady herself but couldn't fasten the restraints before bring slammed against the side of the cage, again. Suddenly her cage was torn open and Cyrus pulled up by her arm. Walking down the aisle, past a very annoyed "Hey!" from Billy, she was dragged into the cockpit. Cyrus sat with her in his lap, his arms secure around her as he gripped the seat in front of them. So instead of being caged in metal, she was now entrapped in his arms. She suppressed a smile.

"Hold on tight sweetheart"

He kissed her neck as they were jostled, as they pulled above the oncoming small plane. She closed her eyes, clutching his arms, as the other plane got closer, she turned in his lap, burying her head in his neck. She felt his chest rumble in laughter. As they landed, she heard him whisper.

"Scared?"

"Maybe I just wanted to get closer to you"

She smirked. He bit her lip. Their noses were pressed together, her breath being sucked in to his mouth.

"Yeah. Sad thing is I actually believe that."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Really? Because even I don't believe that"

She leaned closer to him, her breath ghosting over his lips. He purposely missed as he bit at her again as her arm was seized, giving a small "rar" as she was moved further from him.

Diamond Dog had pulled her up, her eyes stayed connected with Cyrus's as she was dragged off with the other guards. They were corralled to the side of the plane. The males being kicked down, and beaten. Diamond Dog kicked the back of her legs making her descend to her knees. She glared back up at Diamond Dog, before a hand seized his shoulder.

"Enough Nathan."

"I am sick of this shit with ms trouble, Cyrus"

Everyone turned to look at Billy.

"Every since this started you've been defending this pig. She's a liability."

"What's she going to do? She's been trapped the entire flight" Cyrus smirked, about to condescendingly pat Billy before Nathan spoke.

"He's right. How do we know your not about to take this bitch and run? Why should we trust you?"

"Who's side are you on Cyrus? Us or the pig?" Billy inserted.

"I'm a convict, of course you can trust me"

Cyrus smirked looking around. Antonia looked up at him. He was losing respect and power. He needed the power to escape, alive. He looked down at her.

"Sorry sweetheart"

He then shot her, three times in the chest.

"Thank you for choosing Con Air"

* * *

AN:/ If I don't update again its because Antonia killed me. Ciao.


	5. Malloy's Mistake

**AN:/** Very quick update as the next chapter is extremely long.

* * *

Chapter Five:

Agent Malloy's Mistake:

* * *

"This is a talking stick. You don't hold it. I hold it. If you talk I hit you with it"

Cyrus pointed to various rocks and tin cans outlining the plan of attack of the oncoming police.

"Okay, gentlemen, we have ten minutes till the cavalry arrives...Let's get her out...Now!"

The men set to work on getting out the plane from the dirt trap it was encrusted in. They all turned to the sound of the whirling of metal and propellers.

"My plane!"

Cyrus threw down his stick, but then smirked as a crane boom fell onto the Lear Jet's rear fuselage, cutting the thin aluminum ribbing in half like a knife like a through butter, trapping it in its own carnage. The front half of the Lear Jet separated from the rear dragging on its front wheel, careens toward the Airfield Gas Station.

Cyrus and Diamond Dog ran for the Lear with the rest of Cons try to follow. Cyrus whirls on them in a frustrated motion.

"STAY HERE! Get this plane ready to roll. I need focus-!"

As they approached the plane, Cindino elbow smashes the windshield and freezes upon seeing Cyrus standing there, glaring. Cyrus moved forward, standing at the edge of the pool of gasoline that Cindino is hovering over in his trapped state as he scrambles to get free of his confinement.

"Looks like you and med had different opinions about this getaway, Francisco."

"I...I can explain..." Cindino stuttered, trying to pull himself forward, only managing to cut himself on the glass around his body.

Cyrus takes the cheroot out of Diamond Dogs mouth. Cindino looks at it then at the gasoline then back at Cyrus in terror.

"Cy-?

Cyrus flicks the cheroot.

"...anora"

It ignites a stream of gasoline and the flame race to the pool at Cindino's plane. Cindino, his pilot, the Lear Jet, and the Lerner gas station ignite in a huge ball of fire.

They return to the plane, and not long after, it was ready for take off and the men got into position trapping the oncoming calvary heading for their slaughter. Though part way through the boneyard rumble a man in dark sunglasses bursts through on a snow plow, that works as a shield for the oncoming soldiers.

"Get back on the plane!"

The surviving cons race in arms back to the plane. Three people stand at the exit of the plane watching the fire below and a car following behind the plane.

"Now that's not something you see everyday"

Poe muttered ushering Baby-o back to his seat.

"Aim for the tires!" Devers screamed shooting at the plane.

"Fuck that; I'm aiming for the pilot"

As his gun propelled 32. caliber bullets, Malloy looked troubled at his gun.

"I thought I gave...wheres my slug-"

He was interrupted as Larkin ran forward waving his arms.

"Hey, over here!"

* * *

Sally Can't Dance and Conrad are breaking out the goods. Sally dispenses the booze, chips, cartons of cigarettes and everyone lights up. Cyrus walks in, out from the cock-pit.

The convicts yell in unison in various versions of "What are we gonna do now?" with a variety of expletives included.

"I can understand you shooting the white pig-bitch and puttin' Cindino down like that, but now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Conrad interjected.

"Its called Plan B, gentlemen. Plan B is a strip in La Cartoza, Mexico – inhabited by some heroin dealer friends of mine. Where the wine runs like water and the women nip at your heels like newborn pups."

The cons yelled in approval as the stereo blasted "Sweet Home Alabama", dancing in their drunken state.

"Define irony"

Poe looked over from his seat to Garland.

"Bunch of idiots dancing on a plane...to a song made famous by a band that died in a plane crash"

Poe rolled his eyes, looking up at Cyrus who was conversing with Diamond Dog, looking very agitated, a yellow scarp of paper being passed over.

"It seems gentlemen, we have a traitor in our midst."

Cyrus spoke as he pulled out his gun.

* * *

**AN:/ **Sorry for the late update. The story's not over yet. Hang in there. :)


	6. Crash Landing

**AN:/** Before I get another annoying review, this chapter will be plot re-tell of the movie, but with my mix and change, but it will follow the storyline to a certain point, and I will not even acknowledge reviews that complain about plot retelling – it is essential to continue the story. Sorry for the long break, but I have been busy. Sorry for the mini rant. Here you go - :)

* * *

Chapter 6: Crash Landing

The music cut off with an abrupt stutter, as the machine was ripped from its post and thrown into a wall, but hitting Rammon instead, introducing him to the floor. Cyrus look from the drag queen then glanced around at the remaining convicts. He shoved his gun at Diamond Dog, taking the one the former was scratching his head with.

"Someone alerted the authorities at Carson City. Someone told them about our Lerner rendezvous."

"Bet'cha it was your girlfriend" Billy muttered under his breath.

_**Bang!**_

"Someone even killed poor Billy Bedlam."  
Cyrus looked around at the gaping fish, looking at him with green sallow faces.  
"Now, the likely hood of this being coincidental is the same likely hood that the sow died from a slug"  
The men looked around confused; questioning the sanity of their current leader, the men eased away, taking minute steps as not to enrage the Virus.

"Then someone went and tied a rope to my plane. So I ask you, what is going on? And I answer.  
We have a traitor in our midst."

Cyrus looked around, for a worthy enough target. He grabbed a bound and hooded guard, who had just been beaten and cut in-between rows. Cyrus's eyes narrowed, as Poe's widened.

"Now, how do we flush a traitor?" He spoke deceptively calm, his eyes never leaving the blue orbs locked on his captive. He placed the gun at the man's temple.  
"Count me in gentlemen, 5..4!"  
The men hesitantly continued his count, a uncomfortable, unenthusiastic, murmur of "3, 2". Cyrus cocked his piece, smirking as Poe stepped forward.  
"Wait!" He was distracted as the sweating Negro man pushed past Poe.  
"It was me. It was me."  
"Don't Nathan" Cyrus murmured, eyeing him as he cocked his gun.  
"Don't listen to him, man. T-T-The insulin made him crazy." His Southern accent was lost as he spoke so quickly,, looking in-between the two of them.  
"You have been near death the entire trip." Cyrus stated blandly, glancing at Poe; then smirked.  
_Never go for the kill..._  
"Yeah, motherfucker, it was me."  
_...when you can go for the pain._  
"It's pretty clever, huh, bitch?"  
Cyrus lifted his gun and fired a bullet into his skull.  
"No, that's clever!"  
Cyrus unfolded the letter found beneath the cargo, reading it aloud in a mocking tone as the Southern man screamed to a Deity about his friend. Cyrus raised his gun again  
"Make a move, and the bunny gets it."

Cyrus lurched forward as the plane was assaulted with bullets from a helicopter moving along side. He turned raising his weapon to fire off three shots, none of them penetrating the armed government carriers. He ducked as more ammo was fired in his direction, screaming for back-up the few armed convicts moved to the opened end of the plane, firing at their will.

Malloy continued his air assault of the plane as Larkin threw a fit via the radio system. Cyrus distracted by the many flying pieces of metal and shrapnel aimed at him, failed to notice, Poe's march to the cock-pit. As Malloy armed his missiles, with Larkin interceding like a tantrum child, Poe locked the gates in-between the groups of seats, entering the cock-pit.

"No! POE!"

Cyrus ripped a rifle from a convicts hand, raising it to the gates locked he screamed in fury as he shot the shit out of it, leaving a grated metal mess. Clanging the sides apart from one another, he called out Poe over and over as he approached the cock-pit. Cyrus banged on the next gate as his rifle ran out of ammo. Kicking aside Baby-O's body in a fit of rage, he threw himself against the metal wire, like a raged ape locked in a zoo.

"Strap in ladies, we're going for a night in Vegas"

Cyrus growled as Nathan pulled him back into a chair, gripping the arm rests, until the inner foam spilled out. Cyrus didn't move from his seat as the 'turbulence' jostled the other passengers, his anger making him a solid fragment in a destructed zone. As the plane slid through the buildings, Swamp Thing rushed out the cock pit with Poe hot on his tail. The previous jostling had separated the gates in-between seats. Cyrus grabbed Poe as he exited the cockpit holding a gun to his cheek. Cyrus threatened the family, before cocking the gun. Cyrus fired the gun, as a propeller cut through the side of the plane, separating the two, but not before a bullet went through the lobe of Poe's ear.

* * *

In the aftermath of that fateful crash, many were screaming, many were crying, many took pictures and many died. Cyrus Grissom however was not one of those people. Kicking out the from the bottom of the plane, he along with Swamp Thing and Diamond Dog, slithered out, sneaking past the panicked crowd before boarding a fire truck as their escape vessel.

They sped off with Swamp Thing piloting the vehicle. Diamond Dog and Cyrus stayed atop the engine, Cyrus adorning a fireman helmet. Smirking, he saluted Larkin and Poe as the mounted the Electra Glides, perusing the pair. Swamp Thing laughed bounteously as Diamond Dog, yelled down the oncoming company, switching on the Federal Siren System which walled as they raced into traffic. The truck thundered down Las Vegas Boulevard destroying everything in its path; barely dodging the oncoming carnage Poe and Larkin stayed meters behind the trio.

Cyrus moved to the water cannon at the end of the ladder on top of the truck. With Diamond Dog at the pump control panel they launched a torpedo of water at the traffic and motorbikes. After knocking other perusing cops, Cyrus gritted his teeth, indication Nathan to increase pressure he aimed at Larkin, who annoyingly evaded death. Over the roar of the water and swerving, Poe pulled along side Larkin.  
"You strapped?"  
"What?"  
"Strapped? Do you have a fucking gun?"  
They swerved apart as an oncoming car came in-between them. Larkin, fumbled as he upholstered his gun, slowing his speed.  
"Now what?"  
But Poe had already sped off, maintaining control of the bike with a gun in his hands, as Larkin awkwardly pursued them. Swerving and shooting at the truck failed miserably, leaving Poe no choice but to leap onto the truck. His bike flipped over a car knocking Nathan off the top of the truck, exploding midair it evaporated them both; the sensor depraving explosion caused Larkin to spin out of control, flipping he crashed. Cyrus tackled Poe and the ensuing struggle distracted both men as the truck careened for a construction zone. Swamp Thing screamed as he crashed into the building site; a piece of steel pipe penetrating the front window and impaling him through the chest; twice today he lost control of vehicles; he was pissed, he thought as he died, that his piloting skills would go down tainted.

The jolt of the truck crashing threw Cyrus onto the ground and Poe into a unconscious state. Cyrus disorientated looked up as a large metal contraption pulled up a thick metal column, right above his head. He frowned as it slammed down.

* * *

AN:/ Next update will most likely be in two days. I want to expand so much on this and another chapter; I am currently revising this story and it will be more expanded and complete by December of this year. I guess I'm quickly getting through these chapters because I want to get to a certain part. The stories not over yet. R&R!


	7. Cured

_Cyrus disorientated looked up as a large metal contraption pulled up a thick metal column, right above his head. He frowned as it slammed down._

And it was seconds from being over.

There are brief moments in life

_Breathe in..._

When you must ask yourself

_Breathe out..._

What is wrong

_Breathe in..._

And what is right

_Breathe out..._

And sometimes...

_Breathe in..._

What is right for you

_Breathe out_

Isn't right for others

_**Bang. Smash. Crunch. Dribble, dribble...**_

…_**...trail of blood.**_

_Gasp._

_Que dramatic movie music!_

"So...care to explain?"

He glanced over at the bronzed woman; she wore nothing but a bright purple bikini and a translucent sarong. She sipped her drink momentarily before laying back, her drink returning from her throat as a hand seized it.

"Well? I don't like waiting wench"

She glanced at him with wide eyes.

"_You can get up now. You're not dead"_

_She winced repeatedly as the medic worked over her in the ambulance, as they raced to Las Vegas. The slugs had penetrated her but they were barely flesh wounds. A slug guns power is lacking and with added distance it results, in the context of murder, are far from dire._

"_Insult to injury, he shot me with my own fucking gun" As she sat up she glared at Malloy._

"_And you! You cheaped out. On the gun. Who the hell freaking cheaps out on a gun?"_

"_Well I thought the intimidation factor-"_

"_Fuck intimidation, you put me on a plane with a toy! If Cyrus-"_

_She paused looking down at the gun._

_**He examined her gun, a small smirk splaying in his face.**_

"_**Really?"**_

_**She raised an eyebrow, confused at him. His smirk broadened...**_

_**He felt up her body, his hands at the side of her waist. He pressed her sides tightly and she jumped, as her felt the underside of her breast. His hands moved back to her waist.**_

"You knew"

He released her before rolling onto his back in the warm sand snatching away her drink, sculling it before throwing it away in distaste. It barely took the edge off, though the tinny voice in their radio did give him some form of poisonous pleasure.

"**Multiple casualties have yet to be tallied after the devastating plane crash on the Vegas air strip, last Saturday evening. Former captive Cameron Poe, the only convict's body to be found, though reports do indicate that the rest who were not seized did not survive the excursion"**

"Where'd you get the dosh from?"

"It rained in Vegas, remember?" He smile was sultry as she stretched backwards, grinning in satisfaction as his eyes roamed her figure.

"Your free Cyrus. Don't feel obligated to me just because I saved your life"

"Oh no. I'm not feeling obligated. You still have your uses"

"Oh?"

"Well being locked away so long my uh cooking skills are sub-par. I need you to cook me a steak. Then we make "_love"_ (mockingly) on the beach"

"Are you sure after bring locked away so long your love making skills haven't become sub-par?"

She laughed as he gripped her around the waist, bringing her close to his body.

"You'll be punished for that"

"Ah ah ah. If you do that then the movies Falzon described won't have sequels"

"You'll do what I tell you woman" He smirked pulling the gun out from the back of her skirt.

He gently threw her into the sand on the **** beach, discarding his jumpsuit before leaning down over her laughing form. She leaned forward biting his lip, as they broke into a frenzied of hands groping, grinding, gripping, ripping.

He infected her thoroughly. She cured him of his solitude. The were bad for each other...in a good way.

_Fin._

"_Cures aren't immediate; after an infection, the process takes time"_

She waits.

She knew following a life of crime would lead her to be on the run. She knew the thrill would come and go. She knew how to run. She knew how to survive. She knew how to blend in and she knew how to stand out. Had she known, when she first stepped onto the C-123 Jailbird, that Cyrus "The Virus" would be on there and subsequently derail her current existence, would of she shelled out for her own flight? She knew the answer was no.

She knew the first time she spoke to him, that they wouldn't immediately have the steamy, lusty, strong, solid relationship she'd often fantasized about and she knew these things took time. The attraction took next to no time at all, and the jealousy and possessiveness came quicker than she expected but she knew they still had a lot of barricades until their relationship was at its peak.

She didn't expect to be shot, but knew he had to assert his dominance with his men, especially with the oncoming force that would annihilate them without his leadership. But she knew - she knew that if he didn't love her, it would have been her head that the bullets pierced, not her chest.

Being a criminal profiler, she knew the ins and outs of the law. She knew how to disappear in existence. She knew how to stand next to a mug shot of herself on a wanted sign and get no reaction. She knew Cyrus was a psychopath and she knew that she loved him.

She knew he would never be sweet, affectionate or caring in the cliché sense. And though at times she yearned for an affectionate push back of the hair from her sweat stained face _(sweat from running from his past,) _she knew she loved him for him and knew that she didn't want him to change.

She knew, over time, little by little, he would pick up these traits. He would learn to be gentle, for making love roughly every-time leaves her in an afterglow of aching body, soothed mind (_an insomniac combo)_. He would learn gestures of kindness, because though she could take care of herself, she didn't always want to be strong. He would learn how to compliment, for her dazzling laugh and elegant gestures, should not be ignored.

He was learning, this she knew.

She knew it'd take time.

And so, she sits alone and she waits.

* * *

**AN:/** I decided to condense the three chapters I had planned into one so I can finally finish this fiction, which will make it easier to revise and go back and change a lot of it. I'm sorry if you're disapointed but I really needed to post the ending. Ill be creating a PDF version of the complete story, revised, edited and more in depth and posting it probably on so watch this space for the link. Merry Christmas all. And Thisisforyou, Happy 18th birthday. I know it's probably anti-climatic to what you were expecting I've just been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to really go too deep into it. I hope you wasted your brothers in the water fight today.

Keep on going til it stops flowing.

~~ Writingtitan


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